



"■"&■' 




Class 

II i 



SMUIIM'MW III I-O'nII 






f£l)e bourse anb (Honsumination of £ife. 



A SERMON, 



OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF 



M@m SAWMM W* E'JririSfflffOHB 



t'MTED STATES SENATOR, 






tVHO DIED IIV MMtUIOl NOV. 2, 1S47, 



I 






BY ALVAN BOND, D.D. 

II 
T.VSTOR OK THE SECOND CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH. 



NORWICH: 
j. Dunham's press, bhetucket street. 



SERMON. 



2. TOIOTIIY, 1 : 7. 

I HAVE FINISHED MY COURSE. 

This announcement forms a part of the spirited and ex- 
pressive passage, in which the Apostle gives utterance to 
his feelings in view of the near approach of death. His 
life, after his conversion, had been devoted to the service 
of his Lord, and being about to resign the commission of 
apostleship, he exclaims, " I have fought a good fight, I 
have finished my course, I have kept the faith." 

The clause selected as the text, represents the christian 
life as a race. The word, translated course, was borrowed 
from the common language employed in speaking of the 
Grecian games, and has reference to a race-course run by 
the competitors for the prize. The word finish, when 
used with reference to a course or race, does not mean 
simply to terminate, but successfully to complete, so as to 
win the prize of the victor. " I have finished my course," 
i. e. I have run successfully the christian race, and with 
cheerful confidence I look for the crown of righteousness, 
laid up for me. 

The passage thus explained, suggests for consideration 
the course, and the consummation of christian life. 

I. With a view to illustrate the course of life, several 
particulars claim our consideration. The course of life is 
one of laborious activity. It is evident both from the 



physical and mental constitution of man. that fie was de- 
signed by the Creator for activity. Hence he is placed in 
a condition, where active labors are necessary. The es- 
tablished laws of activity require obedience, and their vio- 
lation is sure to be followed with a recompense of surfer: 
One of the earliest communications, made to man after the 
apostacy, was the decree, "In the sweat of thy face shall 
thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground." The 
Creator might have so constituted the laws of nature, that 
the means of subsistence would be produced spontaneous- 
ly. But he has not seen fit to relieve mankind from the 
necessity of active and diligent labor. 

The idea of labor is not restricted to mere physical ef- 
fort — to the work of the hands. Mind is constituted for 
activity, and without it human exertion would avail 
more, than is accomplished by the animal races under the 
general laws of instinct. The relation between mental 
and physical labor is evident to any reflecting mind. In 
the civil and social structure of society there are such mu- 
tual relations and dependencies, as require in some a ] 
ponderance of mental effort, and in others a preponderance 
of physical effort; while in all a certain amount of both 
kinds of activity essary to the healthful development 

of the whole man. 

It was not designed by the Creator, that the human i 
should all be occupied in the same pursuits. Society. ;i- 
it is organized, makes it necessary, that there should ! 
diversity of operation both in the intellectual and the i 
terial kingdom. Ind so far as the diversified labors of 
mind and body are properly directed, they work out useful 
and harmonious results. 

It is evidently the design of the all wise Creator, thai 



mankind should continue to obey the permanent law of 
activity in some useful department of labor, so long'as the 
active powers of our nature retain the capacity for exertion. 
Indolence is an abuse of the human powers, that cannot be 
indulged with impunity. Whatever be the circumstances 
of life, no one can be justified in suffering his active pow- 
ers to rust into imbecility through the neglect of appropri- 
ate exertion. 

The life of Christ was one of untiring activity. " He 
went about doing good." None of his time was suffered 
to pass unimproved. He said, " I must work the works 
of him that sent me, while it is day." His example was one 
of diligence in doing good. The life of Paul was one of 
unceasing and laborious activity, till he finished his course. 
Holy men and useful men have always been active, labo- 
rious men. In the present state of things where so much 
needs to be done for ourselves and for others, it becomes 
our imperious duty to be diligent in business in the allotted 
sphere of occupation. 

Thus the course of life, be it shorter or longer, is pur- 
sued amidst cares and labors, from which there is no relief, 
till we are summoned to give account of our stewardship. 
Though the necessity thus imposed, may sometimes seem 
to be stern and painful, yet the penalty of violation will 
involve far greater inconveniences. Heaven's decree will 
remain unrepealed and unchanged, in its requisition of la- 
borious activity in pursuing the course of life. 

The course of life is attended with conflicts. There is 
a law in the members, warring against the law of the 
mind — an element of adverse power, that is in conflict 
with the decisions of conscience and the influences of 
grace. The interior elements of moral disorder, consisting 



of the depraved desires and passions, exert an influence, 
the invariable tendency of which is from evil to evil. — 
They appear among the earliest developements of our mor- 
al nature, and are strengthened by indulgence. In conse- 
quence of a general neglect to apply the appropriate re- 
sraints in early life, they acquire a power, which gives 
them a disastrous ascendency over the sober decisions of the 
judgement. The weakness of moral virtue is sadly de- 
monstrated, when it comes in conflict with the law of 
sin. 

The difficulty of establishing and maintaining self-gov- 
ernment is noticed in the instructions of revelation, and 
recognized by general experience. We find in the script- 
ures such counsels as the following ; " Keep thy heart with 
all diligence " — "He that hath no rule over his own spirit, 
is like a city that is broken down and without walls " — 
" He that rnleth his spirit, is better than he that taketh a 
city." Such counsels point to a conflict, to maintain 
which requires firmness, vigilance and prayer. How many 
can sympathise with the experience of Paul, described by 
him with such graphic and masterly power in the Epistle 
to the Romans. How many have been ready to respond 
his language, " When 1 would do goocl,evil is present with 
me." So sharp is tins conflicl with the warring elements 
of the sinful heart, that it often prompts the impassioned 
language of the apostle, • wretchedman thai I am, who 
shall deliver me from the body o\ this death !" 

The depraved susceptibilities of man's moral nature af- 
ford fearful advantage to the assaults of temptation, made 
by those mysterious spirits of wickedm oncerning 

whoso malignanl agency the "scriptures utter so many ad- 
monitions. The apostle alludes to the conflict, which the 



Christian has to maintain with super-human powers of evil, 
when he says, "We wrestle not against flesh and blood, but 
against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of 
the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in 
high places? " The fact is thus fully and strongly stated , 
that we have enemies to battle with far more potent than 
any human hostilities, a conflict that must be sustained with 
resolute purpose, with persevering activity, and with sleep- 
less vigilance. 

When we estimate the strength of the lusts, passions, 
and sinful affections, and the power of those spiritual agents 
of evil, which traverse unseen the moral world, seeking 
whom they may deceive and destroy, we may comprehend 
the nature and severity of the moral conflicts, that occupy 
so large a space in the history of life's eventful course. — 
The assaults of temptation are artfully adapted to the 
character, the condition, and the peculiar circumstances of 
those assailed. To maintain a war with these varied 
forms of evil, to resist every species of temptation, requiies 
strenuous and unceasing exertion. 

Such are the conflicts of human probation, which make 
its pilgrimage anxious, perilous, and laborious. When Paul 
uttered the words, "I have fought the -ood fight, I have 
finished my course," he could rejoice, in the happy thought, 
that the keen conflicts he had endured with indwelling sin, 
and with the invisible agencies of temptation, were ended, 
and that the awards of victory awaited him. Such is the 
course of life with every christian. Hence the solemn 
summons, " Take unto you the whole armour of (Jod, 
that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day." 

The course of life is one of responsibilities. We are so 
connected with fellow pilgrims to the eternal world, that 



- 

exejrt a mutual influence on each others character and 
destiny. " None of ns liveth to himself.*' We are noi is- 
olated beings, whose actions affect only ourselves. The 
claims of others upon ns involve responsibilities, varied by 
the circumstances of the position assigned us. Much de- 
pends, as it respects the measure of individual responsibil- 
ities, on the position allotted, and the number of talents de- 
livered to us in the providence of God. 

Were we to contemplate this point in its true light, the 
conviction would be deep and strong, that it is a serious 
thing to live, where the doings of life are moulding the e- 
ternal destinies of ourselves and others. Wherever we stay, 
and whithersoever we go, the influence of our character is 
leaving on those with whom we are connected, an impres- 
sion of good or of evil, that shall he as lasting as eternity. — 
A righteous Abel, "being dead, yet speaketh." Of a 
worldly minded Achan it is affirmed, " that man perished 
not alone in his iniquity." 

Were no one but the individual himself to be affected by 
the manner, in which the course of life is pursued, even 
then there would be involved a serious degree of responsi- 
bleness, arising from the relation of present conduct with the 
destinies of immortality. Hut when it is considered, how 
others may be affected by the example and influence of the 
individual, his responsibleness assumes an aspect, that 
ought to awaken the deepest solicitude. God will hold 
each one of us accountable for whatsoever we do, in per- 
forming life's eventful course: and when the summoi 
issued, "Give account of thy stewardship/" then and not 
before shall we comprehend the nature of the responsible- 
n< ss, under winch the course of probation is pursued. 

'The relations sustained by us. as Bubjects o( the divine 



ernment, involve duties and responsibilities of the 

gravest character. They cannot be disregarded without 

periling not only our own eternal well-being, but that of 

fellow pilgrims. To fulfil the duties involved in such re- 

lations, both as it respects ourselves, and those with whom 

are associated, — and to meet also the claims of God, 

holds our destinies in his hand, will require unceasing 

:ilance, self-denial, activity, and prayer. The field of 

probation will in the future world yield a harvest, eorres- 

ding with the seed, which is now sowed, and the kind 

ol labor bestowed on its culture. The mysterious desti- 

s of a future and endless existence are so connected 

'i present conduct during the course of life, as makes 

history of each day's doings and conflicts solemn and 

ntful. 

The course of life is one of afflictions. There is no con- 
dition, in which we can expect exemption from the visita- 
tions of trial. The mysteries of Providence often subject 
our faith to a severe ordeal. The clearest skies may be 
suddenly overcast with clouds. When we flatter ourselves 
that the voyage of life will carry us over unruffled seas, the 
pleasing dream may at any time be disturbed by the eler 
ments of adversity, as they muster themselves for a tem- 
t. Often does Providence utter its monitory summons, 
Arise ye and depart, for this is not your rest." Amidst 
nges sudden and sorrowful we feel the force of the di- 
le announcement, — " Thy way is in the sea, and thy 
path in the great waters, and thy footsteps are not known." 
<Jod in his sovereignty often speaks from the midst of the 
slouds and darkness, which are round his throne, saying, — 
My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither arc your 
lys my ways." 



10 

The counsels of inspiration utter a rebuke of the prevail- 
ing presumption, that tills the future with pleasing hopes. 
We are slow to learn practically the truth, that we know 
not what a day may bring forth. Not being sufficiently 
mindful of the mutability that pertains to human affairs, to 
earthly prospects and circumstances, we find ourselves un- 
prepared to meet the painful vicissitudes, which sometimes 
come upon us with overwhelming power. As his waves 
and billows pass over us. we feel the need of stronger faith, 
than we have been careful to acquire. In vain we try to 
fathom the deep designs of God, to solve the mystery of 
his ways, — and it remains for us to listen with resignation 
to the message of a chastening Father. — •• 13c still, and 
know that 1 am Cod. :; 

The painful mysteries of Providence are designed and! 
fitted as a salutary trial of religious faith. This is an ele- 
ment of character, which God would perfect in his chil- 
dren, and he accordingly subjects them to the appropriate 
discipline. He has a variety of methods, in which to mak< 
his providential doings so bear on his children, as to de- 
velop the qualities, in which he delights, and prepare them 
for that rest, to \\ hich he intends to bring th< 

The fashion ^f tins world passeth away, and the tides of 
change no human wisdom ran ascertain, or comprehend. 
Events, which in a day or an hour may destroy our t'ond- 
i si earthly hopes, come without any premonitory indica- 
tions. No scene o( happiness is protected by such defenses, 
as can ward off the visitations o\ affliction. The seeds of 
suffering and of death are lodged in everj mortal body, and 
may suddenly mature amidst keen and unrelieved suffer- 
ings unto dissolution. Life's fairest scenes are often swept 
ili,' teni] i -' of adversity, and our pleasant things are laid 



H 

waste. Pestilence, in its walks of darkness, holds a coax*' 
mission to destroy the hope of man. It fastens its ruthless 
gripe on the form of manliness and vigor, and in a few days 
or hours compels its return to dust. It is not an uncom- 
mon thing to have our attention suddenly startled, and our 
sympathies excited by the onset of the grim Destroyer, as 
he invades the hallowed home of domestic joys and hopes, 
and there sunders the tenderest social ties, leaving behind 
him the foot-prints of irreparable desolation. 

What is the world but "a vale of tears" — a wilderness 
of storms, where the spirit is often wounded by the thorns 
of adversity. Who has not shared in the bitter sorrows of 
bereavement ? Where is the habitation, that has long been 
occupied without having been visited with sickness, anx- 
iety, suffering, and bereavement ? The congregation ex- 
hibits the habiliments of mourning, and you may find in it 
hearts that ache under some fresh affliction. No relation 
is privileged with exemption from the power of this uni- 
versal destroyer. He goes up into the windows of domes- 
tic happiness, and sunders the sacred tie, that unites the 
"twain" in "one flesh"; and departing with his precious 
victim, leaves the bereaved survivor in unrelieved loneli- 
ness, to weep in bitterness over the cherished memory of 
the loved companion. O what depths of sorrow may be 
found in the " torn heart" of widowhood ! None but those, 
who have passed through the scene, can understand the na- 
ture of those griefs experienced, when hearts, united by the- 
tenderest of all earthly affections, are rent asunder, and left 
to bleed in unutterable desolation. When the coffined re- 
mains of the endeared one are lowered down slowly and si- 
lently into the narrow house, none can conceive, what is 
the anguish of that smothered sigh, which heaves the con- 



1-2 

Vulsed bosom, unless there has been experiem n 

bereavement. 

How common and how agonizing the separation i 
parents and children, between brothers and sisters, when 
death invades the family groilp. The guides of ou 
the companions of our life, the props of our declim 
are removed one after another. The parental heart is 
ten and crushed, when some promising flower is upr 
from the garden of life's fond hopes, and in its fr< 
and beauty withered by the frost of death. When the 
of our heart is thus quenched, and our hopes d< 
there comes from the scene of sorrow Heavens instrucl 
message, — "Cease ye from man, whose breath is in his 
nostrils, for wherein is he to be accounted of." 

Who has not by personal experience learned, th 
course of life is one of trials and afflictions, whi 
to encounter repeatedly the inexplicable mysteries of 1 
dence? Who is not aware, that we are liable at any 
to be overtaken by the waves of a heart-rending afflict i< 
How deep the mysteries, that try our faith, — m 
which the plummet of reason cannot sound. Th' • 
earthly hope, that may not any day l>c destroyed. Si 
ed amidst scenes of suffering, and sorrow, ami m. 
learn by sad experience, that we have no permanom - 
of temporal happiness, — no continuing city in 
ness, — no rest for the soul this side of heaven. The 
of life must be finished, before its trials shall be i 

II. The Apostle said, I have finished my com What 

is the consummation to which he referred: Ti my 

second general topic. When Paul uttered this 
he could exult in the prospect, that his goal u rk had 

en accomplished. His course of labor, oi confl 



13 

ponsibleness, of trial, being finished, he was now ready to 
be offered. The term finish, as has been already noticed i 
conveys a two-fold idea, viz : a completion of the race, and 
the consequent investment with the honors of a victor. 

When the course of life is finished in this important 
sense, the results are most precious and glorious. As the 
journey of life approaches its end, if finished in the sense 
just noticed, there is great peace, arising from humble 
trust in Christ. A very great difference is seen in the man- 
ner, in which men meet the crisis of their ending proba- 
tion. They, who during life have run for the golden 
prizes of this world, and its awards of pleasure, dread the 
crisis of termination. To end the course of life is one 
thing, — to finish it is a different thing. Its end may come, 
before its great object is attained ; but when its course is 
finished, this object is secured. As the Apostle, standing 
on the margin of eternity, reviewed the history of the past, 
he was cheered and animated with the reflection, that his 
eventful course had been so finished, that nothing more re- 
mained for him to do, but to resign himself into the arms 
of death with the confidence, that could exclaim, " I know 
whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to 
keep that which I have committed unto him against that 
day." 

How blessed such an issue, — and sueh in every case is 
the issue of a well-spent life. " Mark the perfect man, 
and behold the upright, for the end of that man is peace.'' 
The prospect of immediate death is fitted to appal the stout- 
est heart. Nothing is so much dreaded or deprecated as 
the ruthless assault of the king of terrors. In view of 
such a change there is much, that is fitted to agitate the 
mind. Well may it awaken anxiety and awe. The im- 



1 J 

mortal spirit, whose first love is with the things of this life, 
shudders at the prospect of entering upon the untried 
scenes of an eternal futurity. But there is a power in 
christian faith, that inspires the soul with peace, as it con- 
templates the fearful conflict. The reason is, that the end 
of life has been a subject of habitual thought, with refer- 
ence to which the leading purposes of the mind have been 
formed. 

The man who has often communed with the grave and 
the realities beyond it, who has habitually reflected on the 
approaching end of all things, and prepared himself to 
meet it, calmly awaits the solemn hour, when the last sum- 
mons shall call him to eternity. When it comes, it finds 
him ready. As he finds himself enveloped in the darkness 
of death's mysterious night, with firm confidence he ex- 
claims, " I have finished my course." As the star of hope, 
shining through that darkness, attracts the eye of his faith, 
he is inspired with courage, saying, "I will fear no evil." 
The scene around his dying bed may be one of agitation 
and grief, exhibited by weeping friends, who would hold 
him back from the gate o( heaven : but his own calm, 
courageous spirit meets the crisis unterrified. lie has fin- 
ished his course, and is going to receive his crown. 

The inquiry may be suggested, what kind of peace is it, 
that marks the closing scene of the christian's course ? In 
reply I may say. it is not the sullen apathy of the stoic, 
who has schooled himself into a frigid insensibility both to 

od and evil. Nor is it the deceitful repose, created by 
the moral opiates of specious error, which prophecies 
smooth things, inspiring the deceived soul with dreamless 
slumbers and groundless hopes. Nor is it a nervous ecsta- 
cy, occasioned by causes of a physiological rather than a 



moral nature, and which the first ray of light from the e-> 
ternal world will expose and destroy. It is that heavenly 
peace, which Jesus promised to his disciples, and which it 
is his pleasure to give them. " Peace I leave with you, 
my peace I give unto you." This is the precious blessing, 
which the christian enjoys, when he has finished his course. 
Having walked in his uprightness with unfaltering step, 
"he shall enter into peace, they shall rest in their beds." 

The consummation of christian life is not only followed 
with peace, but with a glorious triumph. Human prow- 
ess glories in its victories, and they are heralded through 
the world by the genius of poetry, and the glowing pages 
of the journalist and historian. Science and art exult in 
their marvelous triumphs, which are chronicled, and laud- 
ed in the temple of literary fame. Secular enterprise 
trumpets its proud achievements, as it rears its monuments 
of glory and grandeur. 

But what are all such triumphs, compared with that, 
gained by the man of God, who having kept his end in 
view, is enabled to meet death as a vanquished foe. As he 
takes a retrospect of the past, and thinks of his labors, his 
conflicts, his responsibilities, and his trials, he may rejoice 
in the reflection, that they are ended, and that he has finish- 
ed his course. 

The triumphs of faith, though without the pomp of arti- 
ficial circumstance, infinitely surpass in moral greatness, 
all other victories, however emblazoned by human pride 
and enthusiasm. It is a triumph of the immortal spirit, a- 
chieved on the pilgrimage of an eventful probation amidst 
toils and difficulties, which nothing but faith can success- 
fully encounter. Tell me not of the victories of the mar- 
tial hero in the fiercely contested battle : or of the achieve- 



16 

ments of the man of genius, the man of talent, or the man 
of worldly enterprise. What though fame may celebrate 
these exploits in eulogy and in song, they are destined to a 
grave of forgetfulness. The splendid pageant with its 
gorgeous glories will vanish like the meteor's transcient 
blaze, and leave behind nothing of enduring value or inte- 
rest. The sounds of commotion like the thunders of the 
storm, will soon die away, and be heard no more forever. 
Hut the christian hero, who has fought the good fight, and 
finished his course successfully, achieves a victory, that 
shall be celebrated amidst the congratulations and rejoic- 
ings of the heavenly kingdom, and be rewarded with a 
crown of immortal honor. 

The consummation of the course of life, as attained by 
the christian, is accompanied with hopes of unearthly glo- 
ry. O what prospects open to the spirit's unclouded vis- 
ion, as it takes its leave of the mortal body, and bids adieu 
to earth. Excited by curiosity men are attracted by the 
collision and conflict of physical forces. There is an im- 
pressive sublimity in the mighty struggle of nature's con- 
flicting elements, as witnessed in the storm, the earthijuake, 
the volcano. The conflict of brute forces has its excite- 
ments. The battle-shock of annus is watched with thrill- 
ing, — with stunning emotion. But how much greater the 
interest, attending the scene, where the christian engages 
in the stern encounter with death. Single handed, but 
having on the armor of God, and sustained by the power of 
faith, he awaits the onset of the dread destroyer with the 
shout of confidence, "O death where is thy stmg!*' The 
darkness, which for a little season gathers around the 
opening grave, is illumed by the sunshine of heaven, which 
bursts in sweet serenity on the eye of the triumphant be- 



lr 

never, as his redeemed and sanctified spirit ascends to its 
resting place in the bosom of a Savior's love. 

There is in such a triumph as this, ialm and noiseless as 
it is, a moral sublimity infinitely surpassing the so called 
brilliant achievements of worldly ambition, and human en- 
terprise. O who would not rather be the humble victor in 
life's last conflict, and sympathise with Paul in the an- 
nouncement, •• I have d my cor. — than to win 
the must honorable prize of human glory, that the world 
has ever awarded to the men it delighteth to honor. 1 
any one witness the scene, where the good man meets the 
last enemy in the closing conflict o( his course, and though 
he might have millions at his command, — and be invested 
with the coveted honors of rank, and office, and authority, 
he could not well resist the conviction, that the peace and 
hope of the righteous in death., were a far richer inherit- 
ce. He would be prompted to e of the 
abite seer, — " Let me die the death of ti .eons, and 
let my last end be like his 

Such is a brief survey of the course and consummal 
of christian life. The sui ill obviously suggest the 

hy so much is said in tl -pel respecting 

necessity of dil ice, fi and m 

■ranee. Th t i \il occur why, in c 

pun • id finish the con 

tchfulness, and prayer. It 

thee of true lorn, whei 

' Iressing his cb 
this course. Lei ry 

th ,1 that dott let us run with 

■ 

nomentousconsun 



18 

[n view of the whole subject, as now contemplated, let 
me in conclusion select from the practical instructions it 
suggests a single consideration, — tin consolation it affords, 
when bereaved of christian friends. ements 

are often visited upon us in this world of death. The vis- 
itation may be one. that not only id painfully af- 
flicts individuals and famil it one that falls heavily up- 
on the church, the community, the nation. The life of a 
good man is of unspeakable value not only to those, allied 
to him by kindred relations, but to the world. Mourn we 
may, when such a man is summoned from a sphere of use- 
fulness in the church, in the community, and in our coun- 
try. 

The solemn providence, that has jusl removed from us a 
distinguished citizen — a friend and brother, in the person 
of the HONORABLE JABEZ W. HUNTINGTON,* 
calls us to mourn on our own tint, while we ming 

our sympathies with these smitten friends, who drink so 
deeply the cup of sorrow. The position he occupied, in >t 
only in the church as a st< dfast and consistent follower of 
Christ, hm as a pul ii in .1 highly responsible otlice, 

demai public sympathy, and a public 

notice. In whatever r< itempla scharacter, 



' Mr. 1 ! until • "' *''' s 
tow ii. who survives 1 N mix r 
1788. 1 College. Subsequent!] lie pur- 
sue 'I lli low ;l1 ll» Litchfield, w ed in 
his ; 1. In llic member of < 
elected to tin In is appoint- 
ed oi - Ihe limit-- of 
this ., ftirwich. lie 
w n I 5 casioned 
bylhi i .1 lo 



19 

we shall. T doubt not, with singular unanimity concede to 
him tin' honor and merit duo to private virtue, and public 
worth. 

As a husband, as a son, asa brother, they who knew him 
in these relations, will find his eulogy written in living 
characters on the tablet of faithful memory. Neither the 
engrossing labors of public life, nor the distinguished hon- 
ors, conferred on him by his fellow citizens, were suffered 
to check in the least the ardor of his strong domestic affec- 
tions, or interfere with those tender and delicate attentions 
which he cheerfully and uniformly bestowed on the be- 
reaved friends, who shared the first place in his heart. The 
first place, did I say ? No — his chosen Redeemer occupied 
the supremacy in his affections, and this but enhanced the 
value and strength of his friendship and love, and added to 
his character its crowning excellence. 

We might gather testimony to the high moral worth of 
his character from the manner, in which for many years he 
fulfilled the duties of the laborious and responsible offices, 
to which he was at different times elcc In his pro- 

fessional labors he acquitted himself with an ability and fi- 
delity, that secured to him distinguished reputation. But 
he was best known, and most highly appreciated as a pub- 
lic character. His fellow citizens in repeated instances tes- 
tified, that they had the highest confidence in his qual- 
ifications to fill the most important offices, within their 
gift. 

As a member of Congress the stand he took, the manly 
course he pursued, and the devotion he manifested to his 
country, indicated the talent, judgment and patriotism, 
which have secured for him the en putation of a 

high-souled, and gifted statesman. The career of public 



comment him under flattering auspices, and pur- 

sued in a spirit of devotion to the public interests, like thi j 
i ing light shone brighter and brighter, till he fi:. 
course. 

As the impartial and upright Judge he lias left a rep 
tion honorable to the department, to which his talents and 
acquirements for several years v.- "ted. The ability 

and fidelity, with which he has acquitted himself in the 
responsible office he held at the time of his decease, evince 
the value of the services rendered to his country. That the 
prosperity of his native State, that the good of his country, 

;ts very dear to him, will be evident, not I 
from his professions, but from the unweari' and 

ions labor, with which he has fulfilled the high and hon- 
oral rsts committed to him. 

As a public man he I a characl . rkedfor 

consistency, honesty, and integrity. He had adopted his 
principles, and he stood firmly by them. And 1. 
r with him on ■• in poire 
ell will con to him ' y of pur] 

that high mi" ledness, The 

j d in 1 

. . 

h v - 
■ 
the 

cons 

. . ■ 



"Thus he stood in his integrity, jusl and firm oi purpoa 
Aiding mani _ none, a spectacle to angels and to men; 

\,a, when the shattered glohe shall rock in the ihroes of dissolutionj 
Still, will he stand in liis integrity, sublime— an honest man.'' 

There is no sphere, in which our departed friend moved, 
where his character was exhibited in a light so satisfactory 
and interesting, as in that of an humble follower of Christ. 
This is the character, in which I knew him best. Having 
communed with him in private respecting the paramount 
interests of religion, it was delightful to see, that amidst the 
diverting avocations and temptations of a public life, relig- 
ion was enthroned in his heart. I have been with him in 
the halls of his official duties, amidst the absorbing engage- 
ments and excitements of public life, and it gives me pecu- 
liar satisfaction to refer, as I now may, to the consistency, 
the sincerity, and the unfaltering firmness of religious princi- 
ple, which he exemplified und< r these circumstances. He 
was among the few, who during the sessions of Congress, 
were in the habit of holding occasional meetings for prayer. 
Sensible of the solemn responsibilities imposed on him in 
his high official station, he was in the constant habit of 
king strength and wisdom at the foot of the cross, where 
he left his spiritual burdens, and civil honors. 

It has been his conviction for some time past, that he 
was soon to finish his course ; and he has repeatedly allud- 
ed to this conviction in conversation with bis more inti- 
mate friends. Of late it has been manifest from his pecu- 
t in religious duties i 'he urn I fervor of 

his prayers,'' ristian character was fast ripeni 

for the crisis, he has so mtly met, — 

When tin d it \\ 

ifidence of • irepar 



! 

r has finished his course, and left us forever. In the 
midst v\' us fulness and honor he has gone to his rest, to en- 
e in higher services, and participate in nobler joys, than 
.1. 

and well liking, till the- besl eumr age, 

corruption: 
bursteth in daz bl : 

in at his 

God, in this providence, has spoken to us all, and 
loudly does he say — "Do with thy might, what thy 
hand findeth to do."' — " Walk while I Jn, for 

the night soon comcth.' : — In the frie i talc- 

en away, were treasured t! My hopes 

of his bereaved family ;■ — while m e relying 

much on his influence in h ' ' capacity, in the exist- 

ing crisis of our country's As a church we shared 

deeply in his sympathies and prayers, a immunity we 

were depending on him for years of valuable service. In 
the midst of these anticipations and hopes, a voice from 
heaven b i our ear, — '"Put not your trust in prim 

nor in the son of man, in whom tin no help. His 

breath goeth forth, he returneth to his earth j i:i that v< 
his thoughts perish.*' 

Thus are you admonished, that the course of life will 
soon be ended. How shall it end ? A.n you living with 
itsend in view, — so living that you will he able at last to 
exclaim with confidence, — "Ihave finished my coursi 
Ye fo ; in this sanctu; 

andatthe aental table henceforth will be vacant j and 

,n that y there comes a v. -union, — yea 

from thai brothei h opened grave th the mon- 

itory respi 

ye men < . youral sorbing pursuits, your 



■'■■J 



pleasures, anticipations, and honors, you are addressed in 
the solemn and significant language ot' mysterious provi- 
dence, and warned to be prepared to meel your God. The 
voice of him, whose sudden death has called forth so strong 
a tide of sympathy, could it be heard from the spirit-world, 
would with argument and eloquence I to you to seek 

first the kingdom of God. Your course of life will soon 
have ended ; perhaps very soon. "For what is your life ? — 
it is even a vapor." Before another Sabbath shall dawn, 
the solemn knell may announce your departure. Soon 
and your choicest friendships, your treasured riches, your 
well earned honors, will avail you no more forever. 

^Yould you finish your course so as to attain the con- 
queror's crown, then open your hearts to the instruction, 
which Heaven in a voice of sudden thunder addresses to 
you, and which exhorts you to seek in the way of repent- 
ance that refuge for the soul, which you may find in the 
hope of the gospel ! Be wise t >- ■■ ly, and so improve the 
impressive monition, to which your attention is summoned, 
that when the fearful crisis of your sen! tiny shall 

come, it may find you ready, — your loins girt about, and 
your lamps trimmed and burning. To be ready, when 
this crisis . — " ready to be offered," — is the blessed 

consummation of life. 

Asyou prize the treasures of a glorious immortality, as 
you would have your house set in order, wl i shall 

come and demand admission, as you would finish life's 
course with hope and triumph, call aw our thoughts 

from things seen and temporal, and . md imme- 

diate attention to the tl which belong to youi e, — 

While the tears of sympathy, shed upon the grave of our 
endeared and honored friend, are yet moist, and the affect- 



2-1 

ing instruction of his dying scene is yet fresh, — let the 
momentous decision be recorded on high, that your first 
work shall be a full and cheerful surrender of heart and life 
to the service of that God, whose providence warns, whose 
word counsels, and whose love beseeches you to make his 
favor and glory the paramount objects of pursuit. May 
you so listen to the appeals he is addressing to you, that in 
prospect of the last dread crisis, you may respond the lan- 
guage of exulting confidence. " I have fought the good 

. i. I HAVE FINISHES MY COURSE." 

Amen. 



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